Invisibility
by Calculated Artificiality
Summary: Cordano (to come)... Romano reflects on the day and hears something that (much to his chagrin) fits perfectly.
1. A Song

Well, I don't own ER or anything like that, if I did... Romano would be alive and well. *grumble grumble*.... I also don't own Clay Aiken or his grammatically incorrect (but still good) song "Invisible"... By the way: In my little world I've created here, Mark never died (they were never involved) and there is no Ella.  
  
Pllleeeaaassseee Review!  
  
~Natalie~  
  
************************************************************** She doesn't even see me. She doesn't even know that I'm there. Boy, ain't that the story of my life? I have such a presence, such a commanding authority when it comes to business. But when it comes to matters of the heart, I'm invisible. To her anyway, or any red-blooded woman I've ever come into contact with.  
  
So I'm not exactly GQ material, but then again, what man is nowadays? None in the greater Chicago area, I can tell you that much right now.  
  
I'm not a woman's dream but surely (by looks alone) I can't be her nightmare, could I?  
  
By the way my life has been going lately, love aspects included, I must have the damn plague as far as women are concerned. But, that's really of no matter. And why? Because, for years I've only had eyes for one woman. And ain't it just a kick in the damn head that she doesn't even know I exist.  
  
As a colleague? Yes, she knows I'm around.  
  
As a Friend? Sometimes the thought may cross her mind.  
  
As an arrogant asshole? You bet your ass she notices every single day.  
  
But as a man? No.  
  
As a lover? Hell no.  
  
And that is, sadly, the story of my life.  
  
But, I'm not looking for pity here. Far be it from me to ever seek pity from anyone lowly enough to offer it. I'm just stating the facts.  
  
Does it hurt? Sure. I mean, why wouldn't it? It's a beautiful woman who doesn't even know I exist. It's amazing how smart she is, yet she's quite obviously blind. Why, you ask? Well, because I've been head over goddamn heels in love with her for years. And I don't think she suspects a thing.  
  
But, then again, there's the British for you, huh?  
  
Think they know everything, and granted, all of those Oxford graduates are pretty knowledgeable, but when it comes to common sense, they don't have the first clue.  
  
See, there's my problem right there. I give the woman too much credit. But, I guess that's what love does to you.  
  
I hate sounding like this, really, I do. I'm not one that cares for the expression of emotions too much, but it's really sometimes necessary, as much as I hate to admit it. I've never been good at this whole love crap. Never. Not since I was little.  
  
And yeah, I'll never be the charming Romeo that'll come and sweep Cinderella, or Sleeping Beauty or whatever her name is off of her feet. Something about Capulets and Montagues, I don't know... but I'll never be him. I've known that my whole life. I'm the guy that'll tell it like it is. I show my love by severe and harsh sarcasm.  
  
What woman wouldn't love that?  
  
Now, that brings me to my next topic, modern women. The women today really do piss me off. Thinking they're equal. No, I'm just kidding, I'm all for women's rights as the next man, but sometimes, they take it a little too far. I like women just well and fine, one in particular, but there are some rights they just shouldn't have. Like going off to war! Who wants a woman PMSing on the battlefield? Not me, that's for sure. Hell, she'd probably shoot one of her own platoon members for Midol. And a lot of good that would do us, huh?  
  
But, I digress.  
  
Anyway, back to my apparent invisibility. Today, I decided that enough was enough. I was going to tell her flat out how I felt. If she liked it, she liked it, if she didn't, she didn't. Well, push comes to shove, nothing goes as planned, and she ends up running off with some tall dark and handsome type from surgery.  
  
Yeah, I'm pretending that didn't hurt.  
  
So, now here I sit, listening to the radio (why, I don't know) and thinking about what I could have said to make her notice me.  
  
Suddenly, I hear the faint sounds of a familiar song. I hate this song. But I turn it up anyway.  
  
It's that gay little kid from American Idol... what's his name? May, Clay, Fay? Something like that, I don't know.... But, since I have nothing better to do, I listen to the words.  
  
"What are you doing tonight" Not much Clay, how about yourself, I think dryly. "I wish I could be a fly on your wall" Yeah, I bet you do sicko. "Are you really alone" No loser, I'm here with my invisible friend. "Who's stealin' your dreams" Not you buddy, definitely not you. "Why can't I bring you into my life" Well, I don't have a witty comeback for that one. ..... But then I stop for a minute and listen. Maybe this kid is on to something. "What would it take to make you see that I'm alive... If I was invisible  
  
Then I could just watch you in your room  
  
If I was invisible  
  
I'd make you mine tonight  
  
If hearts were unbreakable  
  
Then I can just tell you where I stand  
  
I would be the smartest man  
  
If I was invisible  
  
(Wait..I already am)" Boy, I know what you mean there buddy.  
  
I stop to think for a moment. Hmmm... that sounds vaguely familiar. I wonder where that emotion comes from.  
  
"I reach out  
  
But you don't even see me  
  
Even when I'm screaming  
  
Baby, you don't hear me  
  
I am nothing without you  
  
Just a shadow passing through..."  
  
Oh yes, I feel that verse with every fiber in my being. Normally, I wouldn't even be listening to a song such as this... But this one hits a little too close to home.  
  
"If I was invisible  
  
Then I could just watch you in your room  
  
If I was invisible  
  
I'd make you mine tonight  
  
If hearts were unbreakable  
  
Then I can just tell you where I stand  
  
I would be the smartest man  
  
If I was invisible  
  
(Wait..I already am)"  
  
I shake my head back and forth. My goodness, how I share the sentiments of this guy. But, Clay, my dear friend, Hearts aren't unbreakable. I know that. Let's face it... we all know that. There's no use pretending when it comes to that.  
  
'hmmm' I think to myself... the song was pretty good excepting the obvious grammatical errors. I mean seriously... who on earth writes this crap? "If I was invisible" it's a good concept for a song (one that I can certainly relate to) but shouldn't the writers have to pass at least middle school grammar?  
  
I sigh. Maybe I'm too picky. Too fickle? I don't know, but I've decided I've had enough of this. It's time for bed. I'm tired, and I'm still reeling from the lyrics of that awful, but true song.  
  
Hmmm... If I WERE invisible... Wait... I already am. Yep, definitely a little too close to home.  
  
One thing's for sure though... I'm going to bed pretending I'm a fly on the wall in Elizabeth Corday's room...  
  
Unless she's brought that useless surgeon back with her... then, I will be able to fulfill the upchuck quota of an actual fly.  
  
When will she realize that I'm the only surgeon for her?  
  
Maybe after she sleeps with them all....  
  
But, no matter... she's worth the wait.  
  
***************************************************  
  
This one will be continued as well.  
  
Kay, I know I'm writing a lot of different stories, and I'm sure you're all wondering how I keep them straight, but I try.  
  
I was in the mood for a somewhat light piece, and I just got the Clay Aiken CD, and I really do like this song, so, I figured that I'd use it.  
  
Please let me know what you think (Though I'm a little bit scared on this one, as it was a bit cheesy)  
  
Thanks!  
  
~Natalie~ 


	2. Capacity

Chapter 2! I'd forgotten about this story.... Maybe... it was invisible... hahahahaha... Get it?!?!  
  
Anyway... review... please?  
  
Thanks!  
  
~Natalie~ (Determined not to say y'all) [Dang it... I said it...]  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
What the hell is that noise? I hear god-awful droning that can't be stopped. Ugh. I hate this most of all. Waking up. I hear some boring suit trying to tell me the damn weather report. "I'm David Allen, and this has been a weather update." Yeah, cause I really give a damn who you are and what you're spewing David.  
  
Another day.  
  
Wasn't it always like that? The days just seemed to keep on coming. It's like one of those damned dolls you can knock down a million times, but they'll still keep popping up. Hmmm... kind of like me. I could swear I have sand built into my feet. Ya know, they just keep knocking me down, and I keep bouncing right up.  
  
God I bet that pisses the hell out of them.  
  
I stop briefly to wonder who the hell 'them' is... did it include her?  
  
Oh shut up for Christ's sake, it's only 6:00 in the morning and already I'm thinking about her? Jesus Christ. He snickered, or Judas Priest as it was.  
  
Sleep had come rather easily for me last night. I'm not used to that. Maybe it had something to do with the long day.  
  
Nah, I think it had a helluva lot to do with pretending to be a fly on Elizabeth's wall. I grinned. Yep, that was most definitely it. In my dreams there was no handsome surgeon... well, excepting myself of course. There was only Elizabeth and myself... oh how I had enjoyed that.  
  
In my dreams last night I certainly wasn't invisible.  
  
Okay, enough about her this early buddy. Let's just get a shower and go to hell. The endless joys of working at County General. The ER was such a bitch... kind of like the woman that ran it. Coincidence? I think not.  
  
Ha-ha, I just crack myself up sometimes.  
  
Why wouldn't she want to be with me? I'm so damn funny!  
  
Boy, I'm really on a roll today. I can't get her out of my mind. But then again, who the hell could? That red hair... those curls... that beautiful accent.  
  
She made the British seem almost bearable.  
  
So, I went on about my business, and headed off to work. I just couldn't control my excitement as I walked through the ER doors and saw the insufferable Kerry Weaver standing there hunched over a chart.  
  
"You're late." She said bluntly in that cackling voice of hers.  
  
"So I am Kerry, but rest assured, I'm not pregnant."  
  
She didn't seem to get it at first, but then again, she was never very quick on the uptake. Eh, it wasn't my best effort, but it pissed her off anyway. Robert-1 Kerry-0 (as usual). I mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done at 6:30 in the morning... sometimes I really did love this job, if only to piss off Kerry Weaver.  
  
And as the elevator doors opened, I saw the second, most thorough reason I loved this job standing there in all her glory, and to my surprise, she saw me.  
  
"You're late." She said.  
  
"Ah, so I've heard." I said back.  
  
"Is there a reason?"  
  
"A reason I've heard or a reason I'm late? The reason I've heard is because I'm late, I'm late because I'm late."  
  
"I see, so then, you're late." She said biting back a smile.  
  
"That, Lizzie, I am." I said as I rapidly walked down the hallway, pretending to be in a hurry.  
  
Now, mind you, I wasn't really going anywhere. Anywhere important anyway. But, it always seems as though I feel the need to be in a hurry when I'm talking with her, makes me feel important... or at least makes me think that maybe she thinks I'm important. Either way, I'm always in a hurry.  
  
I walked into the surgeon's lounge to drop my belongings off, as I heard the door open.  
  
"Weaver's pissed." She said matter-of-factly as she made her way to the coffee machine.  
  
"Yeah, so, what else is new?" I ask as I shrug on my white coat, pretending that I'm not extremely ecstatic at the fact that she's talking to me.  
  
"Yes, isn't that the truth." She says as she pours herself a cup of that caffeinated substance that is sure to be the death of us all.  
  
"I'm like the Sitar player, Lizzie, I only speak the truth." I joked as I put my stethoscope around my neck.  
  
"The what?" she asked, confusedly.  
  
"The Sitar player, you know, from "Moulin Rouge", that" here I made little quotation marks with my fingers "Only spoke the truth."  
  
She laughed a little "Oh, right, yes."  
  
I turned to face her again "Oh, come on, you mean to tell me you've never seen 'Moulin Rouge'?" I asked, faking incredulity.  
  
She laughed this time, a full throaty laugh that, had we been speaking more seriously, could have been my undoing "No, Robert, I've seen 'Moulin Rouge', I just don't make a point about going around memorizing it."  
  
Ouch. That one stung. Was she insinuating he didn't have a life? If she were, she'd be right, but still: Below the belt. But, I don't show it. I laugh it off: "Perhaps you just don't have the capacity."  
  
"Oh, I don't have the capacity?"  
  
I step towards her "Yes, this is what I'm saying."  
  
She smiles and then steps closer to me "No, Robert," she says, a hint of suggestion in her words "Perhaps it is you that doesn't have the capacity."  
  
I have a hard time finding my voice. I am not mistaken this time; of her insinuation... it is completely clear to me. I don't let my shock, or my joy, cross my face as I look her straight in the eye "Oh, believe me Lizzie, my capacity is the last thing you need to worry about." I say before I turn and walk out of the lounge, leaving her with a small smile on her face.  
  
Wow. That was amazing. I could have sworn, yesterday, that I was invisible to her... and now, today, it's as though she's flirting with me. What the hell was going on? I mean, it had happened before, but never that brazenly, never that obviously.  
  
That was the thing with her though. I could never, in a million years tell where I stood with her. One minute she was kind, and flirtatious, the next she was bitter and cold. I needed a "Lizzie Manual". That would definitely help me sort out millions of things about her, not the least of which was what had just happened.  
  
Could I not be invisible? Could she perhaps see me in the light I so desired?  
  
Screw you Clay Aiken! You don't know what you're talking about!  
  
I hated getting my hopes up, but our little session in the lounge was enough to make me forget what usually happened when I got my hopes up... and I did. They were sky high by noontime. And I didn't think they could go anywhere... I thought I was going to have a damn good night, too.  
  
I thought wrong.  
  
It was in the evening, and I was about ready to get off of my shift, in fact, I was leaving my office to go to my car, when I heard voices coming from the lounge. She was laughing, so was he.  
  
I leaned closer to the door, so I could hear what was going on. Of course, the first thing I heard made me flee.  
  
He asked her out. Whoever he was. He'd asked her out.  
  
I didn't stick around to see whether or not she accepted, I'm sure that she did. I mean, he was probably tall, handsome... he probably had hair. She could probably see him.  
  
So I went home. I went home and I sat on my couch and I thought about how damn stupid I was for getting my hopes up.  
  
And eventually, I came around, and went to the kitchen for some alcohol, and then popped in a CD I had bought on my way home.  
  
I heard the first bars of the song and began drinking my scotch.  
  
The little gay kid began singing exactly how I was feeling.  
  
"If I was invisible..." blah blah blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.  
  
"Clay Aiken, I hate you!! You're a bastard!" my mind screamed, as though he were somehow responsible for my revelation that Elizabeth hardly even noticed me.  
  
But still, though I was sad, though I was depressed, and though I was on the brink of self-hatred, I couldn't wait to see Elizabeth tomorrow.  
  
I couldn't be invisible forever... could I?  
  
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Yeah, it's short I know. You should review it... even though it is still cheesy and all that crap. Because... I like reviews.  
  
Anyway, thanks for reading this... sorry it couldn't be better : ) ~Natalie~ 


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